


Misunderstanding

by XzadionOmega



Series: Capturing Moods [5]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Dirge of Cerberus: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: AU, Defrosting Tsviets, Gen, Makeup, Tsviets Live, villains out shopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-16 09:01:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7261309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XzadionOmega/pseuds/XzadionOmega
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I had said 'gouging,' Shelke. While one could stab an eye, gouging is the more sensible practice."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Shelke had come to understand that her relationship with Nero had been drastically altered since they came to the surface. He no longer outranked her and, on paper, they were equals. In practice, Shelke felt there was a discrepancy. Her role had become something between a babysitter and a tutor of above-ground customs. They were both adjusting to life outside DeepGround, but Shelke had a better grasp of it, and there were times that she was ahead of him.

Many times, in fact.

A headache was building in the forefront of Shelke's mind. In the downstairs of the bar, she stood before Marlene and Nero. Marlene was clutching a ballpoint pen in her shaky fist. Nero simply looked sullen at having his day interrupted. "Explain it again, please," Shelke appealed.

Nero was silent. Marlene spoke up in a tremorous voice. "He was gonna hurt himself."

Shelke doubted that. Even at the pits of Nero's despair, self-injurous behavior had never been a concern; he would rather hurt another party than himself. Then again, Nero had been deprived of that outlet recently, and the strain could be coming to the surface.

"With that pen," Shelke asked, clarifying.

"I saw him. He was gonna stab himself in the eye!"

"Nonsense," Nero huffed. It was the first thing he had said in his defense. "The grip I was using couldn't have been more inappropriate to gouge out anything."

"Perhaps you would care to say what you were doing then?"

"Its none of the lass' business what I was attempting to do with that pen. And, truly, does it matter to you if I get hurt or not?"

His tone clearly expected the answer to be negative, but Marlene's face crumpled at the question. "Yeah, it does! You're getting better from when you came. Tifa and Cloud said so, and Denzel and I can tell too. You smile more and you're not mad all the time. Sometimes you're even nice!"

Shelke could count on a single hand the amount of times anyone had accused any Tsviet of being "nice." Nero, constantly glowering and spitting venom, hardly seemed like a candidate for the word. Yet Marlene seemed to think he was. Nero's brow took on a furrow as he searched for some kind of rebuttal. When none came, he repeated his point in clipped tones: "I was not attempting to harm myself."

"Then what were you doing?"

Nero resumed his silence, folding his arms and leaning back as he did so. Shelke sighed. "Marlene, I'll take care of this. You can go." The girl pouted, gave Nero a petulant look, and walked away. When she was safely upstairs, Shelke realize that she was alone with Nero for the first time since the Shera. Thinking of the Shera made Shelke think of the best way to get Nero to talk; appeal to his need for control.

"You mentioned that the grip was incorrect for stabbing."

"I had said 'gouging,' Shelke. While one could stab an eye, gouging is the more sensible practice."

She had used the wrong verb on purpose, but it got him talking. Handing Nero a plastic straw from one of the bar's tables, she replied: "Can you show me?"

Rolling his eyes, Nero took the straw. He held it in his hand as if he were about to write with it, gripping it close to the base. Holding his face steady with his free hand, Nero brought the tip of the straw to the waterline of his eye.

It was a gesture she had seen Tifa perform before. And Yuffie. Never Nero, but it made sense that he did it. Shelke could have screamed.

"You were attempting to line your eyes..."

"Correct."

"With a ballpoint pen."

"Yes. There are no other implements available."

Only a strong will to live kept Shelke from laughing openly.

"Nero," she began in a tight voice. "They sell pigment specifically made for lining one's eyes. Pens are not the correct apparatus. That is likely the source of Marlene's confusion."

"Oh..." Nero returned the straw to its container at the table. They were quiet for a moment. "They sell it? Is it a common practice?"

Among women, Shelke thought to herself.

"Among some people," was her diplomatic response. Nero nodded, apparently satisfied with the answer. He got up then and left, heading upstairs. Presumably to tell Marlene what had happened.

Shelke took a deep breath and walked outside. She walked two blocks away and ducked into an alley. In the relative safety of the distant alley, Shelke laughed so hard her stomach began to ache.


	2. Chapter 2

"What's the difference between ebony and onyx," Nero muttered.

"One is more grey-black."

"They're both black. Why bother distinguishing between them?"

Tifa shrugged, and inwardly thanked God for two things. One was that they were more-or-less alone in the cosmetics shop, with a single salesclerk near the front of the shop. The other was that the only thing Nero needed was black eyeliner. Anything else threatened to short-circuit him. As Nero critically examined the packaging of two other varieties, he asked "What's the difference between the pencils and the more ink-like ones? In terms of durability?"

"Depends on if they're waterproof," Tifa replied.

"Waterproof," he repeated, incredulously.

"Can I help you find anything?" The clerk had approached them, smiling beatifically as she directed her question to Tifa.

Tifa immediately began assessing whether or not Nero was ready for working with salespeople. By the time she realized that the answer was "no," she was spared having to answer. Nero suddenly announced "I've found one. We can go now."

The clerk's eyes flitted between Nero and Tifa _just_ long enough for it to be awkward. Then, with her cheerful tone back in place, the clerk said "If you folks want to come to the counter, I can cash you out."

As they trailed behind the clerk, Nero hissed: "She can what?"

"She can sell you the eyeliner," Tifa whispered back. Nero nodded to that. He had seen the process of items being bought and sold enough times that he knew how it worked. Soon they were back in the sunlight, heading through the thronging crowds, back to Seventh Heaven.

Prideful with accomplishment, Nero evaluated the event as if it were one more training exercise. "That went well."

"It really did." Tifa's voice held more relief in it than she had expected. "Which one did you end up deciding on?" Wordlessly, Nero handed the pencil over to her. She read the word: "Sable." As she handed it back, Tifa smiled. "Good choice."

"I thought it was appropriate." Some children ran past them, going the other way down the street. "I presume that Marlene won't have the same reaction to my using this?"

"She shouldn't, but I'll talk to her." There was a pause. "She's just worried for you."

"Why?"

"I think she sees you as a friend now." Nero didn't reply. It struck Tifa that he might not know how to respond to being considered a friend. "It's a good thing."

"I know. It's unexpected... She called me 'nice' the other day."

"That's sweet." Nero gave a noncommittal shrug, a gesture clearly picked up from Cloud. "Does it make you uncomfortable?"

Nero thought on it for a moment before coming to the answer: "Not particularly, no."

//

At 10 PM, the light was still on in the kids' room. After having closed up shop, Tifa frowned at the glow filtering underneath the door. After a moment, Marlene's voice was indistinct as it filtered through the wood. She knocked sharply on the door. "Marlene, you and Denzel were supposed to be in bed."

"We're sorry!"

There was a muffled voice. A voice that belonged to neither Marlene, nor Denzel made Tifa freeze. Concerned, Tifa announced: "I'm coming in!"

Tifa didn't know what she was expecting to see. Her cosmetics scattered on the floor was half-expected; it had happened more than once. Seeing Nero seated in the middle of the chaos, with his hair held away from his face with various hairclips and his face smeared with various cosmetics was not it. Nero blinked through three coats of mascara. With the most subdued voice she had ever heard the Tsviet use, he murmured: "I believe I've made a mistake."

"You're so pretty now," Marlene cooed. Denzel was faking sleep on the other bed, but she saw his shoulders shaking with a suppressed giggle.

Laughter nearly bubbled up Tifa's throat. She choked it down. "Marlene, it's time for bed. Pick this up and put it back where you found it please." Marlene nodded and began doing as she was told. "Nero, do you... Want to clean that off before you go to sleep?"

"I do."

Nero shook the hairclips from his hair, clambered up, and followed Tifa to the bathroom. She handed him a makeup removal cloth and turned on the sink.

"Can I ask--"

"No," he replied. Nero swiped at his eyes until dark circles formed underneath. "I'd rather not say how that happened."

"Just a one-time makeover then?" Tifa handed him a washcloth and a bar of soap.

"An isolated incident, yes. Good night, Tifa Lockhart." Nero began lathering up the washcloth. Tifa left him to it, closing the door behind her. She stifled a giggle behind her hand as she went to her bedroom to sleep.


End file.
